Let me Take Care of You
by SilverRose2301
Summary: "I mean it. I just need you to be my friend and not a therapist." Happy admits to needing Toby and he helps her sort through some things. They then start a trial run of a relationship. I own nothing. Please review if you like it and want another chapter. Will update soon!


Toby was reading two interesting volumes at the same time when he noticed Happy approaching in his peripheral vision. Much more interesting. Her body language was drastically different from her usual mannerisms; Happy normally projected coolness. Now, she seemed nervous and tired; she fiddled with her watch. It was clear she wasn't there to razz on him or make a playful bet like usual. Toby noted her body language while pretending to continue to read. Happy cleared her throat softly.

"Yes, dear?" Toby looked up with a playful smirk. She breathed deeply out her nose. Happy's face was set but her eyes were nervous and searched his face, avoiding direct eye contact. Toby, continuing to smirk and stare, simply set his books down and sat back in his chair.

"I need a favor." Toby sat up straighter.

"Count me in, Ms. Quinn!" She took a step forward and pointed her index finger at him. Her defensive body language would be transparent even if Toby weren't a genius behaviorist.

"But you have to promise no psychoanalyzing out loud and making people uncomfortable."

"Anything else?"

"Yeah, don't read anything into me asking you for a favor."

"Of course."

"I mean it. The others are just busier than you."

"Yep, I generally sit around contributing next to nothing to the team or society."

"That's not what I-whatever."

"Alright."

"Alright," Happy exhaled and looked a little relieved.

"So what's the favor you needed me for?"

"Oh," Happy's eyes grew wider and her cheeks flushed slightly. "I'm having lunch with my dad. And since it was your brilliant idea for me to contact him I thought you could come along and fill the awkward gaps in conversation with your insistent chattering." Toby was still grinning and his grin only grew wider.

"You want me to have lunch with you and your dad? Ms. Quinn, what an interesting way of expressing-"

"I said no psychoanalyzing," she jabbed her finger in his direction again. He put his hands up in surrender and shut up.

"I mean it. I just need you to be my friend and not a therapist."

"You need me?"

"Toby, I swear I will not let you come."

"I'll behave, I promise." Toby mock crossed his heart with one finger.

Happy contemplated for another moment before saying "Tomorrow. Lunch. Noon. I drive."

"I'll be there, and on my very, very best behavior!" Toby called to Happy as she stalked away.

"Lunch with her father…friend…she needs me," he chuckled to himself.

Toby showed up at the garage the next day thoroughly prepared for the occasion. He was dressed more like Walter than himself. He wore a collared shirt but with a dark pair of jeans. The night before Toby had read five books and fourteen articles on the subject of children reuniting with their biological parents: the possible reactions of both parties, how to facilitate healthy conversation, etc. Toby had been given a great opportunity to prove himself to Happy and he was not about to screw it up.

When Happy saw Toby dressed up, she allowed a tiny smile to slip onto her lips before her fears about her lunch date came crashing back. Toby longed for a day when he could put Happy at ease and relieve her of her fears. To Toby, Happy was the most extraordinary person he had ever met and she didn't deserve to be afraid all the time. Her childhood in foster care had been shit and she was conditioned against opening up to others. Toby could see all her awful feelings pent up in her little body, leaking out only through her dark eyes. Toby dreamed of how beautiful her smile might be if her eyes were completely free of the pain that continually clouded them.

At noon Happy was already in her car, hands tense on the wheel. Toby climbed in the passenger seat. He thought about putting his hand over hers. He thought about brushing the hair out of her eyes or kissing her scowling lips until she smiled or a million other things that he only just thought about doing. Instead, he made a smartass remark as usual.

And Happy quipped back and started the engine.

Happy had apparently planned to get there plenty early since the eatery wasn't very far away and she had agreed to meet her father there at 12:30. Even getting there at 12:15, her father was already sitting at a table by a window and Happy was unnerved. Toby patted her on the back in a chummy manner but it was far too gentle for Happy's liking. It put her too at ease.

"Um, I told you I was bringing my friend Toby."

"Mr. Quinn, we met at Christmas." Toby amiably shook his hand.

"Yes we did," Mr. Quinn replied "Your friend huh? Is he uh, a genius like you?"

"Yes but in a different way," Happy explained.

"Yeah, very different: I'm a doctor and a psychologist, a behaviorist. I could never even operate anything as complicated as the machines Happy builds herself."

The following conversation went relatively well. As well as it could. Happy had endured years without love in foster care because of the man across from her at the table. Happy tried to keep it light and talk about the good things in her life, her accomplishments, and her father listened with interest, expressing how proud he was. Her father's encouragement led Happy to continue talking about her various mechanical achievements: building and designing different machines, rehabilitating various engines. Toby understood little of their mechanical speak at times but he was perfectly content to watch Happy's satisfied face as her father praised her.

Toby watched her father's body language. Mr. Quinn leaned forward on the edge of his seat, smiled and nodded, and truly listened to everything Happy said, asking questions at appropriate times. He also only ate about half of the food on his plate because he was genuinely interested in the conversation. He did finish off quite a few glasses of diet Pepsi though, most likely because sipping can become a comforting nervous twitch for many in an awkward meal scenario.

Happy didn't really need Toby to facilitate conversation after all. He just gave her a sort of safety net; she had to admit it felt nice to rely on somebody. And here she was making a connection with her father. It all felt too good to be true and she grew nervous. Her fears came creeping back.

"Happy, this is so wonderful. You've grown up to be such an amazing young woman. Can you find it in you to forgive me for what I did?"

Happy looked wild-eyed. She got up quickly, nearly knocking over half the contents of their table, and retreated from the room.

"Excuse me, I need a minute." Is what she probably meant to say but instead she blurted out something similar but less coherent. Toby watched her father's reaction intently. He expressed the selfless concern Toby deemed appropriate for a father.

"Forgive her. It's a lot all at once."

"No, it's my fault. I shouldn't have said something like that. I was just so-"

"Happy to see your Happy?" Toby sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. "It's not your fault, sir. I'll go talk to her. Don't leave." Toby got up from the table. "And when she comes back let's just not talk about it okay? Maybe take it slower for a while. Talk about Happy things with Happy." Mr. Quinn's eyes darted about as he processed this and then he nodded sincerely. Toby gave him an awkward double thumbs up and sighed before marching off on an impossible quest: calming Happy Quinn.

Happy had originally hid in the women's restroom but she had felt cliché and silly so she paced back and forth in the alcove where the restroom entrances were. She saw Toby round the corner and she retreated into the women's restroom again. She braced herself against the cold marble counter in front of the mirror and willed the tears in her eyes not to spill. There came a soft knock at the door.

"Happy," Toby whined, "Please come out here and talk with me. Your defensive behavior displays-"

"I thought I told you not to play therapist today."

"But I am a therapist," Toby grumbled, "Fine. As your friend: you would feel uh a lot better if you come out here and wrap things up with your dad." A middle-aged woman exited a stall inside the bathroom and began washing her hands. Happy met her bewildered look with a forced half-smile.

"I promise you don't have to delve into anything deep today. Your dad made a mistake and he's sorry." There was no reply.

Toby stole himself and pushed the bathroom door open. The woman made absurd noises as she exited the bathroom in a huff with her hands dripping wet. Happy looked like she was about to yell at him. But Toby pulled her to him, wrapping his arms around her so her own arms were pinned. He held her and a moment later she rested her forehead against his chest. _Yeah, your therapist wouldn't do this, _thought Toby, _and have it feel so good._

They stood like that in silence until somebody tried to enter the restroom and quickly left it, having seen Toby there. Toby reluctantly let Happy pull away from him.

"It's going to be okay Happy. I promise," Toby spoke softly, "Your dad is still out there waiting for you." Happy nodded.

They returned to the table but the table had been cleared and Mr. Quinn was gone. Toby's heart sank. He tried to gauge Happy's reaction. She made a beeline for the exit, trailed by Toby. She nearly ran over her father on her way out the door. He had waited for her.

"Oh, I thought-" Happy said quietly, her rage leaving her body all at once.

"No, of course not," said Mr. Quinn, "It was nice talking with you Happy. I'll call you in a week?"

"Yeah that sounds fine. Good. Thanks."

"But if you need me, uh you can call me. Or you know where to find me: under the hood of a car." Happy smiled instinctively.

"Nice to see you again, Mr. Quinn." Toby shook Mr. Quinn's hand and Happy hugged him goodbye.


End file.
